A Taste of the Sun
by Jubalii
Summary: There are clear rules when dealing with the Old Ways. Don't step on the grass in a dancing circle, don't look a forest maiden in the eyes, and DO NOT insult a witch when one has done wrong. Unfortunately for Seras, both Alucard and his Vatican nemesis can't seem to get the hang of that. Now a spell has been cast on them. Oh, the humanity!
1. The White Hawk of Scotland

**Author's Note** : This is what happens when you let Juju watch Netflix documentaries about witch hunts. In my defense, it was a really, _really_ good documentary.

* * *

"Go on then, Police Girl, tell me." There was a single gunshot and a Ghoul's head exploded mere inches from her own. Seras Victoria squeaked and threw up her shadows at the last minute; it was enough to keep most of the Ghoul Gunk (as she unaffectionately called it) off her body, but she felt a bit of brain splatter across the top of her head, too fast for her delayed reaction. She scowled and rubbed furiously at her head, but it did little more than stain her glove and work the rotting organ further into her hair. _Great, now I'll smell like a corpse for a week_. "Tell me you don't love me."

"I _hate_ you, you godless shite." This only made her infuriating partner laugh, though to be honest he had been laughing all night anyway. Being allowed to roam free in his own element, in a dense wood beneath the full moon, taking down Ghouls without having to worry about cleanup duty and being able to destroy as many trees as he liked: it was as close as he could get to paradise on earth. Or Seras thought so, anyway. "I ought to just put in my two weeks. There's a million better things I could do than let you make a fool of me every night."

"You'd do that even if I weren't around." _Bang, bang!_ Two more moaning hunks of putrid flesh dropped to the ground, dissolving into greasy ash that stained the mulchy forest floor.

"I don't make it my life's business to stay covered in grimy slop after every mission!" she argued loudly, grabbing a Ghoul that was clacking its wobbly teeth too close to her hand and shoving it face-first into a tree trunk. The face caved in on itself, jaws still working as it slumped over and skull fluids began to leak around one punctured eyeball. She waited until he came close and then rubbed her hand down his vest, smearing the odorous mess over his chest. He dropped one gun and grabbed her hand, keeping it trapped over his heart. She felt the cold emptiness beneath her fingers, wondering whether there would even be a lifeless organ there if she sliced his cavity open, or if he was literally as well as figuratively heartless. _He's not heartless, though_ , a small voice in the back of her mind protested. _He just has it set on different things._

"All the better to clean it off of you, my dear. If it makes you feel better, once we return I'll lick every inch of your skin until you're spotless." His grin widened from false generosity to downright mockery as she glared up at him, trying to pull her fingers away.

"Get stuffed," she growled when he finally allowed her to yank her hand back, turning on her heel and stomping through the trees. His laughter renewed and followed her, making her blush with mingled anger and embarrassment. In reality, he had never even so much as made to kiss her, much less go for a full on skin-licking _anything_. But the bolder she'd grown around him, the bolder he'd became in return until making sexual references was nearly as commonplace as Walter bringing her breakfast each evening. When she was in better moods she returned as easily as he gave, the two of them sometimes reaching such a pitch that even Sir Integra looked sideways at them, as though wondering if they were only joking or really had some secret liaison. She had never said anything, and as far as she knew neither had he. It was almost fun to keep everyone guessing what the true nature of their relationship was… until he became as insufferable as he was being tonight.

"You really hate your old master, Police Girl?" She jumped; he had sidled up to her again while she was lost in her thoughts and surprised her. She put a few paces between them again, wondering at his lack of etiquette. He acted as though personal space wasn't a thing!

"You want to know what I think about you?" she asked sweetly, intending to give him the lecture of the century if he took the bait. His smile crept further up one side of his face than the other, cluing her in on the fact that he knew exactly what she was about to do. _He really is a bastard sometimes… no wonder Sir Integra stays stressed. At least I'm not really in charge of him, like she is_. That was a joy in and of itself; not only did it mean that she was off the hook if he actually _did_ misbehave in any way, but she also could technically turn a blind eye when it suited her to. It was almost frightening, how downright devilish she was becoming as the years passed.

"Please tell me," he purred in answer, closing the space between them once more. She didn't back away this time, instead letting him loom over her as her own smirk reached sneer-status. "I do miss hearing those obnoxiously loud thoughts of yours." A Ghoul stumbled into the clearing and Alucard shot, his eyes not straying from her face. She heard it dissolve as the bullet struck true, as well as the moaning sound of the rest of the Hoard as it trampled over roots and leaves in an effort to reach fresh meat.

"I think you're… Bible." He blinked twice in quick succession, watching blankly as she ducked down. A familiar scent caught on the air, half-hidden by the stench of Ghoul, and she cursed herself as she realized that she'd let her guard down. He had too, by the sound of it, since the book she'd caught sight of thumped against his skull. A split-second passed and then a loud _boom_ ripped through the air, echoing in the woods all around them. She heard a startled flock of birds awaken and fly out into the night, calling to each other in their distress and confusion.

She tentatively opened her eyes, surprised at being unshaken by the explosion, and saw that shadows again swarmed around her body. They weren't her shades and she was both relieved and irritated that he had protected her, as though she were still some cowering fledging that needed the benefit of his watchful eye. Those days had been left behind years ago, when she was young and unlife had been more puzzling, if not simpler. Looking around for Alucard, she found that he was literally _all around_ ; a hand lay close to her, a severed boot still stood where he'd been standing, his skull was blasted into a million little fragments all around. She pursed her lips, clambering to her feet. It would take him a minute or two to pull himself back together, so it was up to her to create a distraction until he did.

"Well, well… so I missed the Draculina. I must be getting rusty." She didn't have to look up into the scarred face of the man to know exactly who it was. Alucard's self-proclaimed nemesis, arch enemy of vampires and heathens: the man with a thousand names. But only one was his true name, that the select few knew—

"Father Anderson." She stood proud and courageous where she would have once been shaking in her boots. The man still frightened her, but at the end of the day he was only a man. Perhaps he had holy power, perhaps he was just a _thing_ , as Sir Integra had once called him to his face. But he wasn't undefeatable, no matter what he was. And one day, he'd be dead in the earth, dead like a man, and she would still be as undead as she was today. She had decided long ago that he would _not_ be her death.

"Aye," he answered, tilting his head to examine her from the other side of the clearing. Even in the pale light of the moon she could see the dark green of his irises, the same color that the leaves around them would be in full sunlight. "Tell me, lass," he continued in a conversational tone. "What are ye monsters doing here, on my own homeland?" It took her a long moment to realize that he meant Scotland; he was so irreversibly wrapped up with the Holy Office in her mind that it was nearly impossible to imagine that he'd ever came from anyplace other than Italy.

"Cleansing it, naturally." She sounded calmer than she felt; her adrenaline was on high alert, waiting for the first movement in what would be a battle for her life. But he seemed to merely want to talk for now, most likely biding his time until he could challenge Alucard to a proper fight. He would know that his cheap little trick did virtually nothing to the ancient vampire.

"Cleansing Vatican lands?" he chuckled, one brow arching over the rim of his glasses. "Someone like yerself, _cleansing_?" he laughed louder, shoulders shaking. "A black-hearted devil like ye could never cleanse anything."

"I'm not black-hearted!" she protested, though she felt foolish for letting his words get to her. "I've been good enough!"

"Good enough is what got ye into such a state," he remarked wryly, looking right at her face. She knew that all he saw was the scarlet-eyed, pale visage of a blood drinker. She felt a vein of frustration bubble within her breast; what did he know about who she was deep down?!

"Don't judge me," she scowled as he took a step nearer to her. Unlike Alucard, he was slow and loud, every touch of his heel crushing the grass. Staring at his feet, it clicked in her mind that something wasn't _quite_ right, but she couldn't figure out what it might be. Ignoring it for the moment, she instead looked back at his face, mapping the coarse stubble and ugly scar that stretched across the broad jaw. "I don't judge you. I can't; I know nothing about you, other than the fact that you're a vampire hunter."

"I'm a purifier," he corrected her. Another step, another, another. "I hunt down anything tha' is a mockery in the face o' God, be it vampire or no." She didn't move, though he was now close enough that to her vampiric sight, the pores of his skin were visible. _He needs some moisturizer…._ Shaking the errant thought from her mind, she found her voice again.

"But _are_ you pure, Father?" To her amazement, that question stopped and seemed to actually stump him for a moment, eyes widening in shock before clouding with puzzlement, then narrowing in anger.

"I am," he spat, but Seras could hear the uncertainty in his voice beneath the hatred. "Now—"

"I wouldn't touch me, if I were you." His hand had twitched, but now it rested at his side. "Alucard wouldn't like that very much," she added confidently.

"And why?" he sneered, looking down his nose at her. "We have eyes everywhere, eyes that tell us that yer not under the monster's thumb now. Yer a lone Draculina, though Draculina ye _are_." She scoffed at this, tossing her hair.

"I wouldn't say that." A shadow passed over the priest's face.

"Ah, so yer lovers then." His nose wrinkled in distaste. "Ye've gone and bedded with the devil himself, have ye? Mated up with a whoreson." She felt the blood stain her cheeks and prayed that he couldn't see the blush in the moonlight.

"We haven't touched; I'm afraid the Police Girl likes to play hard to get." A hand clapped on her shoulder from behind and it took everything she had not to jump in front of Anderson. "Or perhaps I'm not able to meet such high standards," he corrected jeeringly. "Either way, you should listen to her; if I'm not allowed to touch, why should you be?" A glint of metal had her turning her head to see the Jackal being thrust over her shoulder, aimed right at the holy man's heart. "Well met, my nemesis."

"It's about time ye showed yer face, vampire." Bayonets fell from his sleeves, grasped by ready hands. Caught in the middle, Seras didn't know whether to duck and roll out of the way or to wait for the action. But the standoff never became a real battle, as it might have should Anderson have not been distracted by something just out of sight. Seras heard a low growl and turned as well, halfway forgetting that Alucard was right behind her and smacking her nose one good time against his chest, right where the gunk she'd smeared on him had dried. She got a nose full of thick Ghoul stench with an underlayer of Alucard-scent before pushing him aside and looking with shock at the sight before her.

The Hoard she'd heard earlier had reached the clearing but they had all, for some reason, simply stopped. They stood idly between the trees, staring out at the clearing with their blank, glassy eyes and gaping maws. Arms hanging limply, if they had looked more alive, they might have been merely watching the fight escalating between the priest and the vampires. But every once in a while, one of them would growl— a sputtering sound low in the throat— or give a soft moan. Seras peered up at Alucard, who was also looking the Ghouls with a distinct lack of concern.

Turning back to their enemy (someone ought to be watching him, and between the two of them she was the more levelheaded), Seras saw Anderson look around the clearing as though just now realizing where they were at. To her astonishment he went three different shades of pale, each one more alarming than the last as the blood drained completely from his face. He looked quickly behind him at the crushed grass, then around at the Ghouls again. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought that he would faint away right then and there. But before she could decide whether or not she wanted to ask what the matter was, a low cry that was most definitely _not_ Ghoul carried through the air.

"What is this!? What have ye done?!" Three heads turned to see the newcomer, standing at the opposite end of the clearing with a heaving chest and fisted hands. A young woman, perhaps only fifteen or sixteen, stood facing them all. At first, Seras was startled to see a human, knowing what a nightmare the Ghouls must seem, and the carnage they had wrought in the forest behind. But the woman faced the Ghouls with no fear, not blinking twice as she glanced at the priest's bayonets, at Alucard's two guns, at her own beloved canon lying where she'd dropped it after the explosion.

She moved towards them angrily, and Seras noticed two things simultaneously. First, she realized what had been bothering her earlier—despite being in the middle of the forest, the clearing had no leaves or debris anywhere within the confines of the circle. There was only moss and soft, soft grass. Second, she saw that the young woman's step left no trace of a footprint in the grass, no trodden markings like her own, Alucard's, and Anderson's boots had left. Looking back at the woman's shapeless white dress, the pale blonde ringlets floating around her face, the piercing ice of her eyes, lighter than even Sir Integra's, she felt that perhaps she was not quite human after all. She stopped just an arm's length from them, glaring from one body to the other with unholy rage burning in her gaze.

"How dare ye defy this place," she snarled. "Get those weapons away from here!" Seras felt a glimmer of fear at the woman's tone and reached for her Harkonnen, but Alucard stopped her with a gloved hand on her forearm. Anderson was looking in the opposite direction, as though afraid his eyes might catch the woman's accidentally, but he also kept one of the bayonets on him while the others vanished to wherever they had come from.

"And just who are you?" Alucard asked in his usual smooth, smug voice. "I'm not one to take orders."

"I am Gavina the Watcher. And yer overstepping yer bounds, _Romàineach_." She looked on him with disgust. "I dinnae go to yer woods and tell the Zâne how to do their job. Why should ye come do so to me? Let the lass go and obey me as her heart bids—at least _one_ of ye isnae so daft tha' ye can understand the importance o' this place." Something in her tone surprised Alucard enough that he released her arm and Seras moved beside him to gently roll the Harkonnen out of the clearing and into the shadows of the trees beyond.

"And ye!" she continued, turning her viciousness to Anderson. "Ye've been away so long tha' ye cannae take an order? I see ye trying to ignore this place, pretending that ye dinnae know what I am. Get rid of yer little toy stick before ye find it stuck where it ought never to be." Anderson swallowed hard, but his fingers tightened around the bayonet.

"I am a godly man," he said, voice low but rising with every word. "And I am _not_ afraid of some teuchter who thinks herself a witch!" The woman laughed scornfully, crossing her arms and boldly stepping towards him.

"Oh, I only think meself a witch, do I? How 'bout ye look me in the eyes then, ye scunner? Or do ye reckon that deep down, a man o' the cloth has no better protection from a true curse than the wee Sassenach there?" The woman's mocking grew louder when he didn't move. "Yer a good lad, then; yer ma told ye about letting a bonnie forest lass look ye dead in the eye, for then what?" She moved even closer. "Would she'd ken all yer secrets and leverage them against ye as punishment for defiling her coven's dancing circle? The sign o' God's cross willnae help ye for _that_."

"Look," Seras spoke up unsurely, voice wavering. The woman—or witch, if indeed she was one—was really rather frightening. "I'm—We're sorry for getting in your… dancing circle. We didn't know," she half-pleaded. The woman looked long and hard at her, right in the eyes, and Seras _did_ feel as though she were looking deep into her soul, where all her innermost thoughts and desires were buried, farther down that Alucard himself had ever dared go. Then, her eyes softened to something akin to pity.

"Aye, _ye_ dinnae ken what ye were doin', and for that I can and will forgive ye. But these," she added in a different tone, pointing to Alucard and Anderson respectively, "these no-goods knew exactly what they were in. Did ye not see the _godly man_ turn pale as a helpless bairn when he saw what he'd done to the grass? And the _Romàineach,_ who has lived a thousand lifetimes and more in the span o' his time, cannae tell me that he's oblivious to the mark o' a true witches circle."

"I knew very well what it was," Alucard said blatantly, crimson gaze burning into the pale one. "I just didn't care. What is it to me if I anger a few witches?"

"What indeed," the woman growled. "And that, my love, is why ye must be punished alongside him," she sighed after a moment, turning back to Seras. "For though ye have sense enough on yer own, he relies on yer sense to keep him out o' trouble. And as they say, ' _Is treasa dithis a' dol thar àn àtha na fad' o chèile'._ "She nodded to herself.

"But I have no idea what that means!" Seras nearly whined, not wanting to be punished just because Alucard was being his usual self. She got enough of that at home, didn't she?! _Why does God hate me so?!_ she wanted to scream, knowing that both Alucard and Anderson would say that God didn't pay attention to people who 'chose the night'.

"Ah, dinnae worry about it. What's important is that pairs stick together." She turned back to Anderson. "And as for ye, let me offer ye a wee bit o' advice, the same given to the first Christians to ever set their feet on this sacred land; I should know, I was there." She crossed her arms, turning up her nose and speaking in a loud, commanding voice that silenced even the Ghouls. " _Cha dèanar sagart gun fhoghlam, 's cha dèan foghlam sagart._ "

"What nonsense!" Anderson shouted, turning without thinking to confront the witch. She smiled, locking eyes with him, and Seras watched the blood leave his face as he realized his mistake.

"Aye, and 'tis nonsense tha' seals yer fate, man o' God." She uncrossed her arms and the breeze picked up, stirring her long ringlets yet never touching a single leaf outside the clearing. Seras felt a chill on the wind that crept up her spine and made her shiver, leaning closer to Alucard instinctively. Her former master had his usual devil-may-care mask in place, but she could feel the first stirrings of unease coming through his aura. Anderson just looked frightened, an expression that didn't become him in the slightest.

The witch raised her arms above her head and clapped her hands three times slowly, laughing as she did so. The wind became a tormenting gust and her lips moved, but no words could be heard over the whistling in Seras's ears. Then, it felt as though something deep within her heart was plucked away, pulled out painlessly through skin and bone and leaving a deep, throbbing ache in her chest that didn't go away. She looked up just in time to see the wind die down and a white hawk circling the clearing, screeching down at them before sailing over the trees. In the back of her mind, the witch's voice echoed. _Ye and I will meet again, lass, when the July snow sits heavy o'er the hills o' England._

 _Snow, in July?_ Seras had never felt more befuddled, and she placed a hand over the throbbing in her chest, trying to see what mortal wound the witch had done to her. She blinked down at her hand, but to her astonishment she could barely see her glove against the stark blue of her uniform. She could, however, see enough to know that her body was intact, nothing piercing her body in any way. After a quick reflection, panic sat in as she realized what it was. In response to her fear, the throbbing—no, the _heartbeat_ , sped up.

"Um…A-Al—" Before she could speak, there was a scrambling and a surprised gasp. The moon came out from behind a cloud, throwing the clearing into proper light, and she gasped as well as she saw the priest. It was Anderson, and yet, it wasn't. This Anderson was odd, smaller almost, though still tall. It was his muscles, she decided after a moment. They weren't quite as large, and there was a bagginess to his cassock that hadn't been there before. His hair was the same length, but no scar marred his features, no scraggy beginnings of a beard shadowing his face. He was feeling his newly healed cheek with one hand, gloved fingers running over the smooth skin and his eyes wide with shock and horror.

"Oh no," he whispered. "Oh no, oh no, oh no…" He threw out his hand, waiting for something. Nothing happened, and he sank to his knees. "No, God in heaven," he murmured, his head sinking down to rest his chin on his chest. "What has she done? What has she done!?" he whispered to the clearing. It was as though he'd forgotten that the vampires were there, shaking his head and staring at the ground.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned quickly, having heard nothing. Looking up, she saw a bearded, mustached face looking back at her, framed by twisting ebony tangles that hung longer than her own hair, past the shoulders and down the back. Two large, blue eyes that were a few shades darker than her own gazed down at her, roaming over her face as the lips parted and a soft breath escaped. Despite the marked changes, she still recognized Alucard and a dreadful fear came over her. Could it be? Could it possibly _be_?

She reached for the hand on her shoulder, feeling the warmth seeping through her uniform, and held it loosely in hers, mind in overdrive. Then she slowly put the hand, palm out and fingers spread, on her chest. The eyes dilated, widening, and she kept her hand on top of his as her other reached for his chest, brushing back strands of hair and placing her own palm above his heart. It was true, her fears confirmed.

Beneath her palm, she could feel the steady thudding of a heart that hadn't beat in over five hundred long years.

* * *

 **Afterword** : (grin) Ah, the witch has done some magic! I'm sure y'all can think of quite a few problems to be had now, hmm? After all, that clearing is the only thing keeping our newly… incapacitated characters away from some hungry Ghouls!

Is treasa dithis a' dol thar àn àtha na fad' o chèile: "Two should stay together when crossing a ford"

Cha dèanar sagart gun fhoghlam, 's cha dèan foghlam sagart: "A priest should be learned, but learning won't make a priest."


	2. The Flaws of Humanity

**Author's Note** : Answers to some FAQ.

 _Alucard's eyes are blue? Why?_ : OVA IX. That's why. Call it anime genetics logic.  
 _Animeverse?_ : I guess? If you want it to be. I'd think it would be more like OVA canon variance?

* * *

Time as Seras knew it had stopped. Or at least that's what it felt like, as she stood silently with eyes locked with the man who, all of thirty seconds ago, had been a vampire the same as her. Somehow she felt that as long as they stayed within the clearing, everything that was happening to them was merely fiction, a dream that they'd wake from after leaving the moonlit patch of witch-sacred grass. She inched closer to Alucard, peering up past the tangled knots of hair to look more closely at his features. His heartbeat resonated beneath her fingers, as foreign to her as she knew that hers must be to him. She'd known him for so long, and yet never before had she felt the strength of his heart. It was odd, and strange, and she wasn't at all sure if she liked it or not.

Her own heart skipped a beat at the thought, as if trying to remember how to properly keep time. After all, it had stopped prematurely, one warm summer's night, and no one had expected it to start back up again. He must have felt the change, as his eyes slid down to where she still held his hand pressed against her chest before meeting her gaze once more. _His eyes,_ she thought absently. _I'd never really thought about what color his eyes might be._ Even if she had thought to ask it, it seemed like an entirely too-personal question, and he wasn't a big fan of any query that had to do with his human years.

It struck her now that he had known what color her eyes were, having seen her before her death. But she had never known, and for some reason had just always assumed that his were red. Even though she knew that humans normally didn't have red eyes, his crimson visage was too iconic in her mind for her to imagine anything different. But now, their dusky blueness shone back at her, strangely lackluster compared to the brilliant hues that she'd known before. She found that she couldn't have imagined it to be anything else, now that she'd seen it. They simply stared at each other for a long moment in shock; she was unwilling to break the eye contact, and he made no move to do so either.

"Does he still have his guns?" Seras jumped, having forgotten all about Anderson. The man was standing now, having recovered from his earlier—despair?—and staring at her with a wary gaze. When she continued to stay silent, he motioned to the forest around them. "I—cannae summon anything, and there's no way to get out of the forest without killing _them_." Looking in the directions he pointed, Seras realized that he was right. Despite her bad night vision, she could still see the jerky, disjointed movements of the Ghouls just beyond the tree line. If she—they—were really human now, they wouldn't be able to dissolve into mist, and Anderson couldn't use his holy mumbo-jumbo to fly away in a blur of biblical verses. They'd have to rely on the Hellsing Organization's specialty of blessed bullets. She was suddenly grateful to Walter for making sure that Alucard's weapons were always outfitted with the most powerful ammunition his mind could think up.

"I dunno," she called back to him, before turning to Alucard once more. "I don't suppose she took them away, did she?" After all, she could still see the metal glint of her Harkonnen in the shadows, but there was no way to get to it without taking care of the Ghouls first. She looked at Alucard for confirmation, waiting for him to brandish the guns and secretly hoping that he wouldn't decide to kill Anderson with a bullet while the man was in such a state. Somehow she thought that he wouldn't, knowing his penchant for fighting with the man; he would want them both to be in top form before allowing a real battle. Alucard blinked at Anderson before looking back down at her and letting out a string of unintelligible speech. She didn't answer and he spoke again, the upward inflection of his tone suggesting a question.

"What?" she managed to squeak, and saw his eyes widen at her tone. "Talk normally; I can't understand you." He only gave another, longer string of endless syllables that meant nothing to her, his face growing mottled and voice rising with every passing minute until he was shouting at her. She could feel his anger and growing frustration, even if she couldn't understand anything. Finally he stopped talking and shook his head in disgust, the edges of his teeth showing. It was a double shock to her—where there should have been fang glistening among the pearly whites, there were only dull, blunt-edged canines.

"What's the matter with him?!" she asked Anderson in a panic. The Scotsman only shrugged, and then boldly stepped closer to the pair. She wondered if it was her bad vision, or if his eyes really weren't as vibrant as they had been before. While as a Regenerator, they had glowed with an almost eerie light in the darkness, now they just seemed wholly… human. Regular old green eyes, no more and no less. Without the scar and the stubble he looked much younger, and Seras noticed that if he didn't have such a serious, angry look on his face he might have even been somewhat handsome.

"Can ye even understand me, ye bastard?" he sneered at Alucard. Seras scowled at him, but he wasn't even looking in her direction. If Alucard couldn't understand the language, he still caught the mocking tone and his eyes narrowed. He replied, his voice tugging the foreign syllables into a harsh rhythm that suggested the highest of contempt. Anderson laughed scornfully, crossing his arms. "Tha's it then, eh?" he said to Seras. "He's forgotten his English, or else he just cannae remember how to speak it back." A thoughtful expression cut through the jeering one for a quick moment. "Probably he's forgotten altogether, or else I'd think that he'd at least pull the guns on _me_."

"That's just bloody brilliant. This is bad," Seras muttered, gnawing at her lip. "So, so bad. What's Sir Integra going to say to me?" Her own teeth matched Alucard's, the fangs she'd grown used to gone. What the hell was going on? She remembered everything perfectly: why could he not remember how to speak plain English? Alucard scoffed something back, and she distinctly caught Sir Integra's name thrown in with the rest of the jumble. She stared at him, wondering whether he was answering her question, or if he had heard his master's name and was merely making a statement of his own. She sighed, tapping her boot against the soft grass before deciding on a plan of action. No matter what they did, they first needed to get rid of the Ghouls. Reaching for him, she fumbled in his coat for the guns. He gave a sharp, scolding cry and leaped back, staring at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"I just want your gun!" she huffed, only to instantly scowl. _This is going to be tougher than I thought, if he really can't understand what I'm saying._ Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she foolishly mimed shooting a gun with her fingers. He understood the gesture, setting his jaw in an expression that she knew as the 'Honestly, Police Girl' look. He pulled out both guns, looking down at them in surprise. He moved his hands up and down as though weighing them, and then scrutinized her with a tight-lipped, bitter smile. She shook her head in exasperation when he took too long; leaning forward, she yanked the Jackal from his grip and then squealed as her arms nearly fell out of their sockets.

"Damn, but it's heavy!" She nearly dropped it, but thankfully her human body had been physically fit before she had turned into a vampire. She struggled to raise it to proper shooting level, flashing him a look. Alucard tilted his head in a gesture she knew well, used when he was trying to decide what she'd do next. Usually it was in response to some training he was forcing—er, _teaching_ her about, but now it seemed he was merely curious as to what she'd do. _Oh, right. 16 kilos, was it? Walter, you really_ _ **have**_ _outdone yourself,_ she thought irritably. Anderson seemed to think this was amusing, as he was laughing again. Alucard frowned at him and pointed the Cassul in his direction, and the laughter abruptly stopped. There was a challenging glint in his eye.

"Stop!" she shouted at Alucard, forcing his attention back on her. "You do realize that he won't just get up now if you shoot him in the head!" Alucard stared blankly at her and she growled under her breath before putting the Jackal on the ground and motioning wildly with her arms, pointing at Anderson and shaking her head no as though trying to deal with a small child. "Do NOT shoot him! No shooting!" She mimed the gun again and then a grin slowly etched itself onto the ancient man's face. "I'm glad you both think this is funny," she hissed at both men before shaking her head and picking up the gun again. "A bloody riot, isn't it?" She aimed at the nearest Ghoul and shot, only to nearly lose her shoulder from the recoil. She was flung onto the ground, gasping in pain as her entire arm protested. "Ow-ow-ow!" At least her bullet struck true, despite being hardly able to see.

"Need some help, lass?" Anderson stood over her, looking down with a hint of smugness before taking the gun away from her. He too seemed a bit surprised by the weight, but when he raised it and shot he managed to fare better than she. At least, the recoil only knocked him back a few paces. He regrouped, steeled himself, and tried again, this time managing to shoot three times before stopping and rubbing his arm. "Ugh, I'm not used to bullets," he said aloud to no one in particular. Seras sat up and watched him, surprised to see him handle a gun so well. Then again, there was nothing that proved he'd only ever used bayonets before….

Alucard joined in with his remaining gun, and soon every Ghoul surrounding the clearing was nothing more than a pile of ash. Seras knew that the vampire was somewhere in the woods still, but now there was nothing they could do about it. Anderson hesitated to give Alucard the Jackal back, but Seras glowered so fiercely at him that he handed it over without much of a fuss. Alucard pocketed the guns and then they stared at each other, none of them really wanting to leave the clearing.

"Well?" Seras finally asked with a bravado she didn't feel. "Aren't you going to go back… home?" Anderson actually managed to look uncomfortable and she realized how foolish the question was. The woods were in the middle of nowhere as it was, and who knows how far one would have to walk to get to the next village? And it wasn't as though he could get back the same way he'd come. "Oh," she muttered when he said nothing. "Right…" Sir Integra would hate her for suggesting it, but her mind was still the mind of a civilian-protecting policewoman, and Anderson, despite being against them, was still a civilian. "Do you want to come back with us? You can call someone when you get back to London to come get you." Anderson thought it over, seeming to become angrier with each passing moment.

"What choice do I have?" he finally grunted, shaking his head.

* * *

 **Afterword:** These chapters are going to be pretty short. I'm going to try to keep them under ten Word pages per chapter, just because I want a shorter, quicker story to work on in between my big main ones. _(bad Russian accent_ ) Don't like, don't read.


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